


Never Not

by Maira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anger, Assumptions, Background Relationships, Childfree, Developing Relationship, Drinking, F/M, Friendship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione makes a booboo, Humor, Love, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Patriarchal bollocks, Professor Harry Potter, Professor Neville Longbottom, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27952514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maira/pseuds/Maira
Summary: When Draco Malfoy tries to deepen his relationship with Hermione Granger, he is met with perplexing refusal to move things forward.
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	Never Not

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that morphed into something I wasn't expecting.
> 
> Massive thanks to Redenzione for the pre-read - can't wait to have you home again, girl!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, simply playing in the sandbox.

If someone had told Draco Malfoy that he and his Slytherin friends would be mates with a bunch of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws a mere five years after the Second Wizarding War had ended, he would’ve laughed himself stupid. A bunch of Dark-adjacent wizards, one technically a Death Eater, friends with the Golden Trio and Company? Not a chance in hell.

And yet here they were, years later, friends sitting together at a pub. Draco sat quietly in their shared booth, enjoying the relative normality of the evening as everyone chattered on around him.

“- and you wouldn’t _believe_ what this idiot was trying to pass off as legal –“

“- the Nargles aren’t as frequent this season, which is nice-“

“- Gin, I swear, if you bring up that game from sixth year one more time –“

“– completely boffed it, I almost fell off my broom laughing-“

The last few years had been remarkably normal, all things considered. Thanks to testimony from both Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, Draco had spent no time in Azkaban, instead being sentenced to one-year home detention followed by two years of supervision. At the time, Draco had thought it was not nearly enough punishment for what he had done, what his family had done, but as time went on he realised that they had all been kids. Kids forced into situations beyond their control.

And with a lot of help from some annoyingly well-intentioned Gryffindors, Draco had started healing. It was very much a work-in-progress – the rest of the wizarding world weren’t nearly as forgiving as the Golden Trio and their ilk, but things were improving. Draco had just completed his Potions Mastery, and was in the middle of sorting through next steps. Some people were still wary about being in business with an ex-Death Eater, but Draco had hope. Ironic, considering he had spent so much of his life without it.

That was part of the reason they were all out tonight, in fact; all of them had something to celebrate. Not that they needed an excuse, really, but it was nice when things worked out.

“Oi! Remind me again why none of you idiots took Kingsley up on his offer of making you Aurors straight out of Hogwarts?”

Everyone booed, and Draco snickered to himself as Blaise fended off the half-dozen balled up napkins that were unceremoniously thrown at his head.

“What? I’m not allowed to ask the question?” While Blaise sounded annoyed, Draco could see the smile he tucked away. “I still think you’re batty for not taking him up on that offer, by the way.”

“You try spending your formative years saving the known world and being The Chosen One (“Ow! Hermione!” “I told you what would happen if you used that tone again.”), and the thought of having to hunt down Dark Wizards for the rest of your life sounds rather unappetising.” Potter rubbed the back of his head where he’d been hit, giving Granger a mock-angry glare as he did. Granger merely sniffed at him and took another sip of her drink, the look on her face clearly saying that he’d deserved it, and she’d do it again if she had to. When you’ve been friends with someone for over a decade, you often didn’t need words.

“But you could’ve been the youngest Aurors in a decade! And no need to take N.E.W.T.S!” Draco was almost certain that Blaise was just stirring the pot now. That was confirmed when he saw Ginny elbow Blaise hard in the side.

“Oh, shut up, you git.” Ginny poked him in the side again, taking a bit too much enjoyment in the way Blaise winced. He wrapped an arm around her, bringing her in close to his side and pressing a kiss to her head as he did. She grinned up at him, completely unapologetic, as she pulled his head down for a proper kiss, using her free hand to flip off everyone else when they started making various types of retching noises.

Ginny Weasley had smashed her way into the International Quidditch scene with her usual flair, becoming one of the best Chasers the league had seen in decades. In a startling twist of fate, her and Potter had chosen to not pursue their on again, off again relationship after the War, keeping Rita Skeeter in paroxysms of editorial delight for a good few months after it had come to light. Weasley had gone back to Hogwarts for her final year, and then travelled to Italy after graduating, bumping into Blaise Zabini along the way.

Four years, one wedding, and a set of twins later, Draco could say with confidence that the writers of _Witch Weekly_ would forever be in her debt – even now, circulation had never been higher. Next week marked Weasley’s return to training after eighteen months away, and if her current level of inebriation was anything to go by, she was taking the idea of ‘a last hurrah’ very much to heart.

“I have no need to be the youngest anything, Zabini,” Potter said, seemingly completely unaffected at seeing his ex-girlfriend snogging the life out of someone other than him. “Done it a few times now, it’s kind of boring.” He grinned as he leaned back in the booth, completely relaxed and at ease. “And I don’t think anyone, not even the Minister for Magic himself, would have been able to stop Hermione from taking her N.E.W.T.S.”

“You gits don’t have to agree so enthusiastically, you know,” Granger muttered as laughter broke out. “A full education should be something that is _cherished_ , not used as the butt of a joke.” She was mollified somewhat when Potter wrapped her in a hug.

Draco was still getting used to displays of affection, especially public ones. His parents had never been very demonstrative when he was growing up, and the only sort of touching that went on in the Slytherin common room was not used for friendly comfort. Gryffindors, however, seem to have no issue with it whatsoever. There had been a desperate edge to it in the first few years after the War, an almost panicked need to make sure the person sitting next to you wouldn’t suddenly disappear. Now, it was simple love and affection. There were still moments when Draco could see the memories flashing across their faces – lips tightened, eyes went dark, hands reached for the nearest person and gripped them tight. But those moments were becoming less and less frequent. More often than not, there were hugs.

Draco was trying very hard to get used to hugs.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Potter.” Hermione mock-glared up at her best friend, lips tugging up into a smile.

Potter had only just returned to Wizarding London the previous week, having taken time away (“For myself, Malfoy, we just saved the world and now I need a breather. Git.”) right after completing his N.E.W.T.S. He’d shocked a lot of people when he had then left the Wizarding World _again_ to pursue teacher training at a Muggle University. He’d returned with a diploma (“It means I’ve completed my training and can now legally teach, you bloody Slytherin tosspot.”) in hand, and Draco had laughed himself sick at the flurry of owls McGonnagall had sent him the minute he had arrived home. As of next week, he was officially in training to be the next Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He wouldn’t be the main professor for another year, instead shadowing the current one and getting used to the ins and outs of teaching at a Wizarding school.

“Well, you’ve definitely solved that problem now, mate. I think Neville’s beaten you to the ‘youngest professor title’ as of this year.”

“Hear, hear!”

They all raised their glasses and clinked, Neville Longbottom’s face glowing with pride and embarrassment at the congratulations coming his way. He’d just finished his last year as a shadow professor at Hogwarts, and was now about to commence the school year as the official Herbology Professor, the - as already pointed out - youngest one in over three decades.

“Okay, okay, but let’s not forget about the real reason we’re here, guys,” Neville said, wiping off a Butterbeer moustache. “To Ron Weasley, and his innate ability to be so successful that people literally move half way across the planet to do his bidding!”

Even more napkin balls were tossed his way as everyone burst into raucous laughter, the loudest of which came from the Freckled Ponce himself.

The Original Weasley (“No, Draco, you cannot shorten it to ‘O.W’!” “But he gives me a headache, it works perfectl-“ “No!”) had surprised no-one when, rather than return to Hogwarts for an ‘eighth’ year, had instead gone into business with his older brother George. In the years since going into partnership, Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes had become the premiere joke shop in Wizarding London, and as of last week was now in talks to open up a new branch in America. He’d been Portkey’ing back and forth for months, and was due to leave again the next day for what would hopefully be the last few necessary meetings before plans for the new store started in earnest.

“Ey, Nev’, don’t worry, we have plenty of products left for the Hogwarts student body – you lot won’t be rid of me that easily.” Neville winced, no doubt worrying about the fact that he would now be one of the people responsible for punishing those using various joke-shop items.

As drinks were quaffed and refills ordered, Draco felt his gaze drawn back towards the remaining member of the Golden Trio. Hermione was sitting comfortably between Harry and Luna, laughing and joking with her friends as she nursed her drink.

Much like Potter, Granger broke the public’s perception of ‘normal’ when it was announced that her and Chess Git were no longer together. They’d given exactly one interview – _The Quibbler_ , still owned by Luna’s father – but journalism being what it was, they were hounded for months after the break up. The Red-Headed Prick had spent a month or two at the bottom of a bottle, but after a reasonable amount of time (“Three Stunners in three days, Harry? Really?!” “He’d broken two tables, a chair, and Tom’s favourite glass!” “We have magic, we can fix them, Harry!” “Not the point, Hermione!”), he had been unceremoniously picked up and rinsed out by his brothers and best friend.

Now, all this time later, everyone saw how much better Granger and Weasley were as friends than lovers. The two of them were even able to joke about it now, their friendship a lot deeper once the awkwardness of pubescent feelings were firmly out of the way. In fact, it had been Hermione who had given him the push to ask out his current girlfriend, a fact that she was entirely too Gryffindor to bring up. At least, not very often.

Hermione had gone into the Ministry, as most people expected, but not in the DMLE. She’d become a Curse Breaker instead, studying under the Elder Weasley for a time before focusing her expertise in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy-based curses. She was now one of the premiere Curse Breakers in Magical Europe, based in London but travelling to various sites around the world as needed. She’d been instrumental in a major bust of Dark Magic artefacts, and now that the case had become public knowledge (“Honestly, Draco, given the history of this paper I’m surprised that didn’t find a way to blame everything on the wrong people long before now.”), Hermione had agreed to come out and celebrate. Even though, to her, she was ‘simply doing her job!’.

“Hermione, I swear to Godric, if you order another Gillywater I’m going to completely disavow our friendship.”

“And what a tragedy that would be, Nott.”

Everyone laughed as Theo fell onto Potter, holding one hand dramatically over his heart and the other against his forehead. “You have wounded me, Granger! If only I had something to take the pain away . . .” Head practically in his lap, Theo fluttered his eyes at Potter.

“Oh get off me, you git.” Harry laughed as he shoved his boyfriend away, giving him a kiss as he did. _That_ had been an interesting relationship to see flourish. People had been certain it was a fling, something that both of them would get over in a manner of weeks. Well, two and a half years later, there was no chance of it being flung. Draco had never seen Theo this happy.

“Be careful, Theodore, you’ll disturb the Wrackspurts.” Theo smiled fondly.

“Ah, Luna. For you, I shall take extra care.” He leaned across both Potter and Hermione to press a kiss to Luna’s cheek.

Luna had flourished after Hogwarts, and was heading off to the Amazon in a few days to participate in an expedition with Newt Scamander. She was well on her way to becoming a Magizoologist, although she didn’t seem interested in settling down anywhere in particular. She seemed quite content to drift around the country, discovering magical creatures and reporting on them through her father’s paper.

“Right! Good friends!” Theo clambered on to the booth’s seat, invoking much swearing from Potter as he wobbled and almost fell onto the table. “We have imbibed, we have made merry, and now it is time to make tracks! But before we go,” he raised his glass in a toast. “To absent friends.”

A hush fell over the group as they all raised their glasses. There had been losses from both sides, before and after the War. Draco thought of his father, serving a life-sentence in Azkaban. His mother, drifting around Malfoy Manner.

The good mood somewhat diminished, people started saying their goodbyes and trickling out the door with promises to catch up again soon flying through the air. Soon, it was just him and Hermione, both of them happy to sit in the silent company of the other. Pansy gave Draco a Look as she left, tilting her head towards Granger and then raising a brow at him. He shrugged, and she left it at that. Potter and Pals were not the only ones who could communicate without speaking.

His history with Pansy went back to childhood, and had only deepened after the War. She was currently working her way towards becoming the Head Executive of a company specialising in new Wizarding technology, and Draco had no doubt she’d get there within the year. Ambition and drive were often used by some in the Wizarding world as labels to be wary of, especially in relation to Slytherins. Pansy had shown that old school labels didn’t matter. Anyone could be driven, it’s what you did with it that mattered.

Pansy also been one of the first people to know when Draco and Hermione had started seeing each other. They’d been together for almost six months, although not in any official capacity. Oh, their friends knew, and while Strategy Nerd had given them a hard time at first, it hadn’t been from a place of jealousy. That was long ago and far away. He’d merely been speaking from a place of protectiveness, although that had worn off quickly once Hermione had given him a thirty minute lecture on how women were perfectly capable of looking after themselves, thank you very much. Draco did think that the hug and kiss on the cheek she had given him after the lecture had spoiled the point somewhat, but who was he to judge.

Everyone else had smirked when they’d seen Draco and Hermione leave together for the first time, the ‘Took them long enough!’ written plain on their faces, but Pansy had understood. Draco had wanted to make things official right from the start, whereas Hermione had wanted to keep things a bit more private. She had asked him to keep things quiet, just for the moment, stating that she’d spent most of her formative life in the public eye and wanted something to be just hers, at least for now. Draco had respected that, knowing something about having personal details shared, whether he wanted them shared or not.

That had been six months ago. Draco mulled over what he was going to say, not wanting to break the silence. Or the peace.

_Ah, well. In for a Knut, in for a Sickle._

“I think we should make this official, Hermione.” If it had been anyone else, Draco would have been highly amused at the way his companion froze mid-sip, looking to all the world like a Doxie caught in a Lumos.

“Uh, what was that, Draco?” Hermione carefully placed her tankard on the table. Draco took his time finishing his sip of Firewhiskey, feeling the tension ramp up as he did.

“I said, we should make this official.” He placed his empty tumbler on the table and looked at her. Her hands were clenched around her glass, and her entire body was tensed. “It’s been, what, nearly six months? Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s been a fantastic six months.” Draco leant forward. “But I want more. I want more than snatched conversations and fantastic sex.” He smirked at the blush currently suffusing her cheeks. “ _Fantastic_ sex, Hermione. Truly world-class. But,” he reached out and peeled a hand off her glass, linking his fingers through hers as he did. “I’d really like more.”

“Like what? Other-worldly sex? Didn’t know that was your kink, Draco,” she said, laughing awkwardly.

Draco frowned. “Well, Theo is known as the kinky one of the group . . .” he said slowly, a sense of dread starting to creep in as Hermione pulled her hand from his. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think this would be such a shock. It’s not like we’re strangers – we’ve been together for six months.”

“No, I know that, it’s just –“

“Just what, Hermione?”

“I don’t want children, Malfoy.”

Draco blinked at the abrupt topic shift. “Uh, okay?”

“Seriously, I don’t.” She was looking at him warily now, almost like she expected him to bite her head off. “I’ve never wanted them. Ever. No matter how many times people told me I’d change my mind, or I was too young to make that decision, or some other guff, I was quite firm in my stand of ‘no children for Hermione’.”

“. . . Good for you?”

Hermione huffed out a breath. “I don’t expect you to understand. It’s different for women – we’re told from such a young age that the best thing we can do is become a mother. We are forced into gendered roles right from the get go. Barbies, baking, and being a good wife, and Merlin forbid you decide it’s not for you. Look at Ginny,” she said. “She is one of the most talented Quidditch players I have seen, and if even I can pick up on it, then that’s saying something. And yet, she wasn’t seen as a ‘complete woman’ until she got married and had kids. _One of the most talented players,_ Draco, and nothing seemed to matter as much as the fact that she ‘found a husband’ and ‘fulfilled her duty as a mother’.” Hermione snorted. “’Fulfilled her duty’, how disgusting is that. If someone wants to be a mother, that’s fantastic. More power to them. It’s a tough gig, and anyone who chooses it does just that – makes a choice. But she is so much more than a mother, and now, no-one seems to care! She’s returning to professional Quidditch, and every single article is prefaced with ‘wife and mother’.”

“Okay, I’m confused again. And not just about what a Barbie could possibly be.” Draco frowned, doing his best to follow the witch’s train of thought. “Society not respecting women as anything other than mothers means that we can’t be together?”

“Exactly!”

If it had been any other day, or any other topic, Draco would have greatly appreciated the flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes.

“Yeah, no, sorry, still not following.”

“Do I actually have to spell it out for you?”

“Clearly, as you’re not making a lick of sense,” he drawled. “Don’t get me wrong, I agree with everything you’re saying – the press have vomited their patriarchal bullshit on too many witches in the past, it’s actually quite disgusting. But I’m just not sure as to what that has to do with us.”

“You’re the Malfoy heir.”

“Stating the obvious, but alright.”

“No, Draco, _you’re the Malfoy heir._ ” Hermione was leaning forward in earnest, as if by closing the space between them she could more forcibly get her point across. “You’re the last of your line. You need to provide more heirs, so that said line continues. And I am not interested in being a mother.” She shook her head, eyes drifting past his shoulder to look at something only she could see.

“Do you see now why we could never work out? Oh, and let’s not forget the fact that your parents would never condone their precious bloodline being tainted by someone like me, even though - “

Draco felt like he was on a broom. Wind was rushing past him, and he was speeding towards something, but damned if he knew what it was. As Hermione kept speaking, Draco found that her voice receded into the background and all he could hear was wind. Everything else faded.

_Malfoy heir._

_Bloodline._

_Tainted._

“ . . . and so it really doesn’t make any sense for us to be together.”

Reality snapped back into focus, bands of it tightening around his chest. He’d somehow finished his drink again, yet he couldn’t remember taking a sip. He raised his hand until it just peeked over the top of the booth. _Bless this establishment and its staff_ , Draco thought as his drink materialised in front of him. _Handy spell, that._

“Draco?”

He pulled his gaze from his newly filled tumbler and met her eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Am I alright?” He parroted back.

“Yes, you haven’t said anything in a few minutes.” Hermione was twisting a napkin around her fingers. “I realise this is probably not the best place to have this discussion, however I think it’s good that it’s now out in the open. We no longer have to pretend that there’s a possibility of a future for us.” She leaned a bit closer. “Seriously, Draco, are you alright? You’ve gone pale. Er. Paler than you normally are, I mean.” Awkward laughter was not a colour that suited Hermione Granger.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. “I do apologise, Granger. It’s not every day a man gets called a racist, Pureblooded git by his girlfriend. Oh, wait, you’re not, though, are you.” He took a swallow of Firewhiskey, feeling it burn as it went down. “I mean, you’d think I’d be used to hearing it after all those years at Hogwarts, but gee, I guess I was wrong.” Slamming the tumbler down on the table with only slightly more force than necessary, Draco started sliding out of the booth.

“I couldn’t give a witch’s tit about kids, Hermione. Take ‘em, leave ‘em, couldn’t care less.” He straightened his robes as he stood, and glanced down at the shocked look on Hermione’s face. “But the fact that you presumed to know my feelings on the matter, and then used them as a reason for not progressing in our relationship, is shitty.” Draco took a few steps and then paused, shoulders tensing as he looked over his shoulder.

“I thought that you had forgiven me. That you thought better of me. That you were proud of the man I had become.” He shook his head. “I thought you knew me.”

He swept towards the door, his hopes for a future left shattered at the feet of the woman he loved.

*~*~*~*

Hermione sat in the booth, completely stunned.

_Moron! Idiot! What were you thinking?!_

She couldn’t believe what he’d said. What _she’d_ said. She’d been so lost in her argument, the one she’d had to make so many times, she just . . . steamrollered over everything.

If Hermione was honest, the thought of actually asking him up front where he stood on the whole ‘having kids’ thing had never even crossed her mind. Why should it? He was a Malfoy, the last heir of that line, an heir of a family that was of the Sacred Twenty Eight. It was ingrained into them that children were a foregone conclusion, that carrying on the bloodline was of the highest priority.

_I thought you had forgiven me . . ._

Hermione was having trouble getting her breath. It had been barely a minute since Draco had left, and yet she was still sitting, frozen, in her seat. The words he’d said were running on a constant loop.

_. . . that you thought better of me . . ._

Of course she did! He was nothing like his father, like so many of those Pureblooded wizards who had spent their whole lives as mean, petty little men, striving to rid the world of those they considered inferior. Draco was nothing like them.

_. . . that you were proud of the man I had become . . ._

She was, desperately. Even back at school Hermione had known that there was more to him than the façade he showed to the world, and she was _so proud_ to know that others now knew it too. She had watched as he worked to overcome the public’s perception of his past, and prove to them that he was no longer the arrogant boy who had ruled the Hogwarts roost with condescension and his daddy’s money.

_I thought you knew me._

She did know him. She did. Before, during, after – she’d seen it all. They’d been children; frightened, scared children, forced by a well-meaning but cruel master to dance to situations far beyond their control. And Draco had had the worst master of all. His life had been filled with cruelty and violence, and yet he was one of the best people she had ever known. She was incredibly lucky to have him in her life.

And with a start, she knew exactly what she had to do.

*~*~*

“Draco! Draco, wait!”

Draco was halfway down Diagon Alley when he heard his name being called.

Realising who it was, he was tempted to keep going. Something made him stop, although he didn’t turn around. There weren’t many people around at this time of night, at least not in the main thoroughfare, which meant that they would not have much of an audience for this discussion.

She came to a stop behind her, and he heard her panting from her run.

“What do you want, Granger,” he bit out, staring fixedly ahead.

“I just wanted to – are you going to turn around?”

“No.”

“Well, then.”

Draco could feel the muscles in his neck tensing at the urge to turn and look at her, but he refused to give in. He kept his eyes focused down the length of Diagon Alley. He was still angry, still hurt. Did she still think he was that person? That awful, self-absorbed idiot that didn’t know any better? He thought that she’d seen through that.

_I thought you knew me._

A cloud of hair came into his peripheral vision, and before he could think about it he glanced down at the witch in front of him. Her cheeks were flushed from her dash down the street, and she was still panting slightly.

Now that he’d looked, he found that he couldn’t stop.

The warm topaz of her eyes, sparkling with intelligence. Her wild mane of hair, tendrils loose and fluttering in the slight breeze. The obstinate tilt of her chin as she looked at him in exasperation and –

_Worry? She’s worried? Oh,_ now _she’s worried._

“Here to comment on my lack of character some more, Granger? I’m pretty sure you covered everything back there, so why don’t you let me carry on my merry way.” He stepped around her, already thinking of the quickest route to the nearest Apparation point.

If Draco was honest with himself, it wasn’t just anger. He was also hurt. She’d been one of the few people who had been there with him right from the start – she’d literally defended him at his trial, for Merlin’s sake! But to find out that she still thought of him as that person, that she still associated him with those antiquated values, that was somehow worse than all the other things people had said about him over the last few years.

A small hand on his chest arrested his momentum forward, and he rocked back on his heels.

“Oh, stop pouting, Draco, they were barely insults.” Draco gaped in astonishment.

“Did you just –“

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Draco, I don’t know why you’re taking this so seriously.”

“I’m taking it as an insult, _Granger_ , because what you said was insulting!” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “And, honestly, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to act like it didn’t happen.”

This time, he didn’t think the flush on her cheeks was from exertion. She broke his gaze first and look down at her feet.

“I know, I’m – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just brush it off, I just –“ Hermione looked up and vaguely waved a hand. “I just . . . thought I could use humour to gloss over the situation.” She groaned, covering her face with both hands, hair failing in messy ringlets around her face. Muffled noises came from behind her curtain of hair.

“What was that, Granger?”

“I _said_ , I’m sorry.” She huffed out a breath. “You’re totally right, and I’m wrong. I made an assumption about you without bothering to even ask you about it first, which is so completely inappropriate in a relationship, _any_ relationship, that I am shocked I wasn’t called out about it earlier. Honestly, this is something that I should’ve talked to you about right from the beginning.” She grabbed his hands and held them tight to her chest, her eyes pleading with him to listen to her. “I am so, so sorry, Draco.

Her eyes were filling with tears, and Draco felt something warm suffuse him. Okay, sure, this wasn’t going to completely erase what had happened. There were things to talk about. But she saw him.

“I lumped you in with a group of people I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot barge pole, even when I knew, I _knew_ , that you were no longer anything like them. You are so much better than your name, or your title, or any of that stuff, and I am so proud to be yours.” Her voice hitched, and tears tumbled down her cheeks. Hermione didn’t seem to notice.

“Of course I want to be your girlfriend, of course I want to be with you. It was never about that. I was just so focused on what I didn’t want, I didn’t even think to look at what I already had. I want you, Draco. I have for a very long time.

“I know I hurt you, and Merlin I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. All I can say is that I _do_ know you, Draco. And if you give me another chance, I swear I’ll never not bring up another topic of conversation, no matter how uncomfortable it is. There will be so much talking, you’ll wish for a good Silencio.” A small laugh escaped him, and Draco saw Hermione’s eyes widen in hope. “I’m serious, Draco,” she said. “Anything you want to talk about, I’ll talk. And if for some reason I don’t, I’ll tell you why. Just, please, don’t walk away because of some idiotic assumption I made when I was still under the impression that what I thought was right, and everyone else was wrong.”

Hermione finally paused for a breath. Draco felt like hours had passed since she had caught up with him, but he knew it had really only been minutes. Minutes of him standing there, gaping at this beautiful, passionate witch as she stared up at him and offered her heart.

“So,” he said gruffly, his voice cracking somewhat and breaking the silence, “Ignoring that awful double negative, what you’re saying is that you made a judgement about me based on my gender and background, and decided to not actually ask me if what you thought about me was correct?”

Hermione laughed, stepping back and untangling their fingers to wipe at her cheeks. “Ummm, yes. Pretty much.”

Draco shook his head, smiling down at her as he raised an eyebrow. “You see the irony here, right?” Reaching for her hand, he started to slowly pull her closer in to him.

“What,” she said awkwardly, a tremulous smile on her lips as she let herself be pulled in, quirking an eyebrow right back at him, “Have you never seen a hypocrite before?” Draco simply shook his head and laughed before capturing her lips with his own. He felt a frisson of energy run through him as he deepened the kiss, sinking his hands into her hair and pulling her even closer.

There would no doubt be some kind of fallout from their relationship - some people would be horrified when they found out, but the only people that mattered wouldn’t care at all.

He pulled away from her slightly, a bare whisper of breath between their lips.

“I wasn’t joking when I said I didn’t care about having kids, Granger,” he murmured.

“But your parents –“

“Can go to hell, for all I care.” He touched his forehead to hers, and they stood there, breathing in the other’s air, wrapped in a bubble of their own making. “I’m done with other people making decisions for me. This is my life, and I’ll live it with my choices, not theirs. Let that bloody line die out, it’s been nothing but hate and a lust for power for hundreds of years.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I want to be with you, Hermione. Every single part of you. I want to laugh with you, I want to fight with you, and yes, I want to fuck you senseless, the only outcome of which is both of us lying exhausted on the floor, weary and satisfied.” She gasped at his vulgarity, and Draco couldn’t help the small smirk as he felt her press against him. “Just us, Hermione. I’ve never needed anything else.”

He watched her eyes flutter shut as he pressed his lips to hers. He had no idea what the future would bring. None at all. But he was certain of one thing – Hermione would be at his side, no matter what. They would face anything and everything together.

And after all this time, that was more than enough.

*~*~*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> ~ Maira


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